The countess had been in exile for many years, and told an exciting tale of escape when the Germans came to her home. According to the tradition, the family fortune had started with the levying of tribute on travelers at a near-by crossroads. But most of it had been taken away by a similar process of collection. Little was left to her now. One day she invited the Borglums to “high tea,” and as the family sat around the ancient table eating raspberries off priceless china, they could hear the voices and steps of sight-seers in an adjoining room. The exhibition fee undoubtedly eked out her scanty income. Gutzon took a great liking for this aged lady in her rusty black gown and pathetic shoes. He hired a car and invited her to the opera. His attentions and the unusual experience gave her great delight, and she was sparkling. During her exile she had cared for the Polish children in Paris. Now she was anxious to insure religious instruction for the large number of Polish orphans there. It hurt her to think, she said, that their bodies were well nourished and their souls were neglected. As the day of the unveiling drew near, it became known that Paderewski would not be present. This seemed evidence enough that there was something rotten in Poland. The man who had been Premier; who, more than anyone else, had brought the world’s recognition to Poland after the World War; who had made possible the return of territory snatched fifty years before by Germany; the man who had given most of the money for the nation’s tribute to Wilson--this man alone wasn’t going to be permitted to see the honoring of an American president whom he loved. Large numbers of Polish-Americans came to share the tribute to Wilson. Three hundred priests had come from the United States, every one carrying a wreath of artificial flowers representing his district at home. The flowers, piled about the base of the statue with the fresh wreaths of local patriots, made an impressive display. On the morning of the unveiling day Mrs. Woodrow Wilson arrived with her niece and a group of men representing the United States. Among them were Robert Underwood Johnson, ambassador to Italy, and Bernard Baruch, who had taken the opportunity to visit the early home of his parents not far from Poznan. Mrs. Wilson went through the ordeal on the arm of General Mosciki, President of the Polish Republic, and she bore up well despite interminable speechmaking. The crowning event of the program was a banquet at the old Royal Schloss, which at times had been occupied by Kaiser Wilhelm. After that there was a reception for a thousand or more, with General Mosciki presiding.